When first we meet
by GraceWalkeroG
Summary: This is my first fanfic. It's a re-write of the existing Supernatural episode Playthings from season 2 meant to introduce an original female character. I've been dreaming this character up for years and have finally gathered the courage to bring her to life. I plan to insert her into a few other existing episodes and create some original work with her as well.


There's a searing pain in her head and white light floods her vision. Suddenly she's in an old house, in a bed room with intricate wood paneling and lacey bed covers and curtains. There's an antique-looking porcelain bowl on a table with a pitcher nested inside it sitting next to a rotary telephone. It's not a house, it's a hotel. Evening light is filtering through the window, the air is damp with recently fallen rain and she can smell lavender and talc powder. There's another white flash, she blinks and when she opens her eyes there's a man hanging by his neck from the ceiling fan in the room. His skin is pasty, eyes open and blankly staring, freshly dead.

Another flash, more pain, she's outdoors standing on a gravel driveway lined with tall gnarled trees. A woman in her 30's with shoulder length brown hair is running past her with a look of terror frozen on her face. Grace whips her head around to see what she's running from. A car with no driver is barreling towards them both. It passes through Grace and collides with the woman's legs, spiraling her body into the air and throwing her 20 feet to land in the dirt next to a swing set. The woman's eyes are still wide with terror and a thin trail of blood trickles from her slightly parted lips, the life gone from her body.

More blinding light, her head feels like it's going to explode from the pain. She's standing on the deck of an indoor pool and hears a small voice above her. There's a little girl looking down into the water from a second floor balcony. Grace's heart stops for just one beat. "No." she breathes in dread. The little girl falls screaming from the balcony. Her body plunges into the water and is immediately engulfed in the clear plastic pool cover. She thrashes and kicks to free herself, but she's hopelessly tangled. Her struggle lasts a few moments more and then she involuntarily inhales, filling her small lungs with water. She sputters and convulses silently under the plastic and then her body is still. She sinks to the bottom of the pool.

Graces bolts upright in bed, taking shallow gulping breaths, her heart hammering inside her chest. Her whole body shakes with adrenaline and fear and her head pounds with a familiar dull and relentless ache. She tries to slow her own breathing. She needs a drink. There's a bottle in her bag- across the room. She throws off the thin worn motel sheet and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touch the stiff, stained rug and she pushes off the bed with her arms, but her legs are too shaky and they don't hold her weight. She collapses to the floor with a thud and a "dammit". Pulling herself to her hands and knees and still trying to steady her breath she crawls across the room to her bag and fishes around inside for the smooth glass bottle. She pulls it out and unscrews the cap with shaking hands. Lifting the bottle to her mouth and tilting her head back she takes a long pull of the sharp amber liquid. She doesn't even feel the burn in her throat, but moments later she feels the warmth in her chest. She's sitting now, leaning against the chair that holds her bag. Her breath comes more evenly and she takes another swallow. The shaking dies down and she closes her eyes concentrating on the sound of her breath, slowing it further. After a few moments she opens her eyes, screws the cap back on the bottle and puts it away. Standing carefully and walking back to the bed she sits on the edge and lets her face fall into her hands.

The nightmare wasn't just a dream. It was a vision. Those people, that little girl, they are all going to die…unless she stops it. She lays her head on the pillow but doesn't bother with the sheets. She'll be unconscious in moments and when she wakes up she'll start the long drive to Cornwall, Connecticut. That's where she knows she has to go without knowing how she knows, like always. She has to hunt whatever is going to kill those people and kill it before it has a chance to kill them.

The drive to Cornwall is peaceful. The air is cool and crisp and the leaves on all the trees are turning shades of red, yellow and orange. She pulls her Jeep into the driveway of the old Inn and recognizes the building from her vision. In her stomach she simultaneously feels a flutter of anticipation about the hunt and a lead ball of dread over what might happen if she fails. She parks and approaches the front porch. An old urn by the staircase, etched with small symbols, catches her attention. The symbols aren't part of the original design; they were scratched onto the urn as an afterthought. "Hoodoo" she mutters absently under her breath. Continuing up the steps she enters the front door and rings the bell on the registration desk. The woman from her vision emerges from a back room. "Can I help you?" This isn't the first time Grace has come face to face with someone she's seen die in one of her visions. Inside she feels sick with the memory of the woman lying on her back lifeless and bleeding. Outside she puts a small shy smile on her face. "Hi, I'd like to rent a room for a few nights." Graces's voice comes out smaller and quieter than it really is.

"Of course," the woman smiles at her warmly, reassuringly, "is there anyone else in your party?" she asks cautiously.

Grace feigns being uncomfortable and the shy smile turns to and awkward grimace. She shakes her head "no, just me." She's read the history of the hotel, knows the owner is a single mother, running the Inn on her own and about to sell it; this must be her.

"I'm Susan, the owner." The woman offers her hand to Grace confirming her theory.

"I'm Grace." Grace takes the proffered hand and gives it a little squeeze.

Susan looks at her computer screen and types while she makes idle conversation. "So, are you traveling all by yourself?"

Grace is selling herself as shy, alone and vulnerable. In certain situations, she finds getting information about a hunt is easier when the people she needs the information from want to help or protect her. Grace lets a silence hang in the air until Susan looks up at her. Grace's face is somber. "I just went through a bad break-up," she lies. "I needed to take some time away from everything, so I thought a few days in the country…" she lets the sentence trail off and waves her hand around gesturing at the quaint old Inn.

Susan looks sympathetic and understanding. "Well, let's get you settled in then." She hands Grace a key and rings the bell on the counter again. "Sherwin will help you with your bags." Susan motions to an elderly man who has appeared from another room. "If you need anything, please let me know." Susan adds with a supportive smile. Grace just nods and follows Sherwin up the stairs to her room.

Once her gear is stowed she starts wandering the Inn. She tries all the doorknobs, some are locked, some not. She explores whatever she can without picking any locks- she'll save that for night time when everyone else is asleep. She discovers the pool house and a shudder goes through her as she looks in the glass doors to the spot she had stood in her vision. Children are her Achilles heel. She wants to save everyone, but the children, she breaks out in cold sweats to think about not being able to save them. She wanders the grounds and finds the swing set where Susan will die if she doesn't stop it. There are small hints of hoodoo all around the Inn and grounds, but the other components needed to make the magic work are missing. Hoodoo can't be responsible for what's happening here if it's incomplete. Plus, five spots are for protection, not evil.

She re-enters the Inn and sits with a book in the small library near the registration desk. She wants to talk to Susan about the history of the Inn, any strange occurrences or clues that could tell her what's happening here. But, of course, she can't just ask 'so, do you think this place is haunted or that monsters are killing your guests?' Some days she really wishes she could. It would make things so much easier. She has already laid the ground work for Susan to want to be kind to her, to want to share information. In a perfect world Susan will notice her sitting here, looking lonely, and approach her. She decides to give it 20 minutes and if Susan doesn't bite, she'll make a move.

The front door opens pulling her from her thoughts and in walk two tall, handsome men about her age. Each of the men notices her. The taller one gives her a polite nod as he walks by which she returns. The other man shoots her a charming smile as his eyes wander over her like she's a buffet and he's trying to figure out what to eat first. He's very attractive and she smiles back and holds his eye for a moment before thinking better of it. She's not a prude, not at all. But since her father died last year, leaving her on her own, she's learned that her loneliness only comes back tenfold after a night of comfort in the arms of a stranger. She returns her gaze to her book. When Susan comes out to greet them Grace hears the sound of little girl giggles. Her head snaps up and she feels like someone has slapped her in the face when she sees the child from her vision run through the registration area and then quickly disappear out of the room. She forces her eyes back to her book and listens to the exchange between Susan and the men, smirking to herself when they realize that Susan has mistaken then for a gay couple. Grace studies the shorter man from behind and wonders how Susan could have even considered it. The tall man asks about the urn on the front porch, catching Grace's attention. It's old, but the only thing interesting about it are the hoodoo markings. She watches as Sherwin leads them up the stairs to their room. The shorter man steals a glance back at Grace, catching her looking, and seems pleased to have captured her attention. Then he turns around and continues up the stairs.

Susan spots her and smiles. Grace returned a shy, hopeful smile. Susan approaches and takes a seat in the arm chair next to her. "Are you finding everything you need?" Susan asks.

"Yes," Grace answers, "this place is really something else. Have you owned it long?"

"I grew up here. It's been in my family for generations."

"Wow," Grace looks around admiring the woodwork and décor. "Do you think your daughter will take it over when she grows up?" Grace asks, already knowing the answer to the question.

Susan shakes her head. "That won't be possible," she sighs. "I'm selling it at the end of the month." In response to the disappointed look on Grace's face Susan continues. "It used to be a thriving business, but we just aren't making enough money to keep the doors open. I wish I didn't have to, but there's just no way I can keep it."

Grace looks sympathetic. "Isn't there anyone else who has an interest in helping keep it open? Family or past employees?" She's fishing to find out who else is invested in the Inn. The only pattern in the victims she's noticed so far is that everyone who has died is connected to selling the place.

"The only family I have left is my daughter and my mother, Rose."

"Can't Rose help? This place must be important to her." Grace asks hopefully.

Susan shakes her head again looking tired, defeated. "My mom had a stroke a few months ago. She's not really there anymore, and everything she ever had has already gone into this place."

Grace reaches out her hand and touches Susan's knee. "I'm sorry." She says, and she means it. She takes her hand back after the brief contact and asks, "Is your mom here at the Inn or have you had to move her into nursing care?"

"I can't afford care for her right now." Susan sighs. "She'll be here with us until we sell. I think this is where she really wants to be now anyway. She grew up here, it's her home."

Grace and Susan talk about Rose's family and her life at the Inn. Susan shows her pictures of Rose as a child and Grace sees a hoodoo pedant hanging from the neck of a woman Susan explains to be Rose's childhood nanny. 'That must be where the hoodoo came from' Grace thinks. They chat for a while longer until Sherwin comes looking for Susan. She excuses herself and heads up the stairs with Sherwin. Grace returns to her room to see what she can find on the internet about Rose and the nanny.

When she reaches her room she notices that a light rain started falling while she was speaking with Susan. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath of the familiar cool, humid air. She smells lavender and talc. If she doesn't keep it from happening, when the rain stops, a man will die.

She researches for an hour or so, keeping an eye on the weather. When she sees the first rays of evening sun peek through the clouds she heads back down to the lobby. As she walks down the stairs the man from her vision approaches her going in the other direction. He gives her a curt nod and she smiles back. As he passes her she pauses and feigns looking for something in her pockets. Making a show of not finding it she changes direction and trails the man up the stairs. His room is on the fourth floor and she lags far enough behind that he doesn't notice her. She watches from the staircase as he enters his room and she pads quietly down the hall to stand outside his door. The sunlight streaming in the window at the end of the hallway tells her it's almost time. She presses her ear against the door and listens for any sign of trouble. After a minute she hears gasping and sputtering from inside the room. That's her cue.

She takes a step back and slams the bottom of her right foot hard against the door. The door jamb splinters under the force of her practiced front kick and the door swings open. The man is hanging from the ceiling fan right where he was in her vision. Unlike her vision, however, he's still alive, thrashing and convulsing from the end of the cord wrapped around his neck. She enters the room and walks through a patch of cold air. Her breath fogs in front of her, but she keeps moving. She jumps up on the bed pulling her hunting knife from inside her jacket and begins sawing at the cord. The man's eyes plead with her to hurry and she works feverishly to release him. He stops thrashing just as she manages to sever the cord. His body falls to the floor with a thud and she throws herself to the floor beside him. He's not breathing. She begins CPR. After her first round of breaths and compressions she dials 9-1-1 then continues her work. He's still not breathing on his own when the paramedics arrive and take over, but they stabilize him and take him down to the ambulance.

The police are on-scene moments after the ambulance and they want to talk to her. She spends a few minutes with the cops lying about hearing a noise coming from the room, about old buildings and rotted door jams and making herself seem distraught and flustered by the situation. Susan is there thanking her for what she did. They've had so much bad luck here lately and thank God she was there at the right time. The cops have a few more questions for Grace. But she saved the man's life, so they aren't looking at her too hard. Grace notices Susan talking with attractive man who checked in earlier. She examines him now from a distance, taking in his whole body. Although shorter than the other man, he's still at least six feet tall with broad shoulder. She notes how confidently he stands, how his eyes take in the whole scene as he talks to Susan. He's vaguely predatory and she finds that far more attractive than she should. His eyes meet Grace's and she looks away quickly. She knows how she was looking at him and hopes he wasn't able to tell what she was thinking.

He's gone back inside by the time she's ready to return to her room and she's grateful to not have the distraction. She swings by her room to pick up her EMF meter and heads back to the scene of the hanging. The door is closed, but her kick broke the latch, so she easily opens and closes it again behind her on creaky hinges as she slips into the room. She flips on the light and her eyes scan the room. The paramedics and cops left everything as it was for the hotel staff to clean up. She kneels down next to the bed and withdraws her hunting knife from between the mattress and box spring. Couldn't let the cops find that on her. That would raise way too many questions. She pulls out the EMF meter, sweeping it back and forth as she moves across the room. There are faint readings but whatever was here is gone now. She turns it off , sets it on the table next to the window and looks out over the grounds. She hears light footsteps in the hallway and the door behind her begins to creak open slowly. Instinctively she spins around, draws her gun and aims it at the doorway.

'Seriously?!' she thinks to herself as the distractingly attractive man appears from behind the door. He freezes and his hands rise to a gesture of surrender when he sees her gun. "Whoa, sorry," he says eyeing her and the gun. He gives her a smirk that's more flirtatious than most sane men would venture in his place "must have the wrong room." He doesn't actually seem too worried about the gun in her hand. She feels certain he's been in a situation like this before, probably more than once. There's something in his right hand making a faint whining sound and flashing yellow lights. Her eyes dart to it and back to his face. 'Is that a freaking EMF meter?' she thinks. She hasn't spoken yet, she takes a small step to her left so he can see the table behind her. His eyes mirror her own darting motion to the object on the table behind her and then back to her face. Then he does a longer double take and his eyebrows furrow, his expression changing to confusion. "You're a hunter?" he blurts out.

"Yup," she nods once. "You?" she motions towards him with her chin.

"Um, yeah, yes." He relaxes a little as she lowers her gun and clicks the safety on.

"Where's your boyfriend?" she asks, raising her eyebrow.

"Jesus. We are not…" he trails off when he sees the grin spread across her face. "Very funny." He tosses her a sarcastic smile. He's not amused. "My BROTHER, is back in our room…." He suddenly seems a little uncomfortable. "sleeping." he finishes more quietly. "I'm Dean. Winchester." His voice regains its strength and he offers her his hand taking two strides towards her. She meets him halfway and grips his hand.

"Grace Walker", she tells him squeezing his hand firmly and giving it one solid pump.

"You saved the guy that was staying in this room." She nods in confirmation. "You've obviously been on this case longer than we have. But, how did you know he was gonna get attacked?"

She doesn't tell people about her visions. She especially doesn't tell hunters who think everything supernatural is evil and must be killed. "I was working a theory." It's not a lie, just not the whole truth. "Whatever this thing is, it's taking out people who are a party to selling the Inn. This guy works for the company buying the place. I just figured he'd be a target, so I was keeping an eye on him." She makes the statement sound final and he doesn't push.

"We were thinking the same thing about the victims." Dean says. "Any idea what we're dealing with?"

"There are a lot of hoodoo symbols around here, but they all seem to be protection charms and they all seem to be incomplete. Either someone who doesn't know what they're doing is working hoodoo, or the symbols are old and we're not dealing with hoodoo, we're dealing with a ghost." She lays it out matter-of-factly.

Dean nods his head in agreement. "We noticed the symbols too. If it is hoodoo, we're thinking it's got to be Susan, Sherwin or Grandma Rose."

She shakes her head. "It's not Susan." She says with authority, seeing Susan die in her mind's eye all over again "she's in danger too."

"What makes you say that?" He's staring at her expectantly waiting for an answer.

"Just a feeling. She's scared by what's happening here. She was grateful that I saved that guy tonight and I don't think she's faking it." Again, not exactly a lie. Susan is scared, but that's not how Grace knows she's in danger. "And Sherwin…" she doesn't say anting else just looks at Dean skeptically and tilts her head.

He squints and nods in concession. "Right. Well, that leaves Rose. We still haven't done our research on her to figure out her story." He seems a little irritated.

She's been alone a long time. She's lonely for real company and in need of a conversation that isn't full of lies meant to garner information. When she thought they would end up in bed together she was afraid to engage him, but working together could be good, it could be safe. "I've already looked into her. What I have's in my room. You're welcome to take a look." She offers as she grabs her EMF meter and strides toward the door past him. He smells faintly of whiskey which makes her think that a drink is an excellent idea. She turns around at the door to find him still standing in his spot looking at her indecisively. "Are you coming?" She arches an eyebrow. He moves with a start and follows her out of the room.

Her bed is littered with papers and folders. She shucks off her jacket and tosses it on the desk chair. He follows suit. She points at the bed. "I haven't had time to organize it yet, but everything I've got so far is there." He moves toward the bed and picks up a few papers to make a spot to sit and starts glancing through what he's picked up. She grabs two glasses off the mini bar and pours two whiskeys.

"So, you hunt alone?" he asks as she walks to the bed and hands him his drink.

She sits down next to him. "Now I do. It used to be me and my dad." She looks at her drink. "He died about a year ago on a hunt."

"I'm sorry." He says and she hears something in his voice, probably his own loss. Every hunter has a sad story.

She looks back up at him and gives him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, but you know, that's the life. It's a dangerous gig and nobody gets out alive." She takes a swallow of the whiskey and lets the burn slide down her throat and into her stomach. "And you, you hunt with your brother?"

He nods and his smile is more genuine. "Yeah, me and Sammy been hunting since we were little. Our dad taught us." The smile fades. "He's been gone a few months now." He takes a sip of his own drink.

"I'm sorry too." She tells him and she is. They both sit quietly for a minute. It's an oddly comfortable silence that neither seems to want to break. Finally Grace starts to tell him what she's found out.

"Rose had a Creole nanny while she was growing up. There's a picture of her downstairs wearing a five spot necklace. I can't find anything on the nanny without her last name." She retrieves a print out and hands it to Dean. It's a picture of a five spot, like the ones all around the hotel. "That same five spot is the only hoodoo symbol I've found so far. It's everywhere, but the herbs and plants needed to make it work are absent." He examines the paper and nods with understanding. He takes a sip of his own drink as he studies the description of the five spot. "And see," she leans over his right shoulder pointing to a section of the paper he's holding, "this is a protection symbol. It's meant to keep evil away. I supposed it could be corrupted to cause harm, but why bother doing that when there are plenty of other harmful spells you can work?" They turn to face each other at the same time and she realizes they are closer together than she intended. She can feel his breath on her cheek and is suddenly aware of the smattering of freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. His gaze wanders down her face to her lips and back to her eyes, his own eyes opening almost imperceptibly wider. It's a question, he's asking permission. All she has to do is lean in or tilt her head and she's confident he'll do the rest. She feels a flutter in her stomach, a longing. No. She can't. Her answer is no.

She turns away from him, reaching back on the bed for more papers, shifting her body to sit further from his hip. "Here." She hands him something else and when she turns to look at him again the question is gone from his face. "I found this article when I was researching Rose." She swallows another mouthful of whisky as he reads the first few lines of the article.

"Rose had a sister." He mumbles.

"An older sister, Margaret, who died on the hotel grounds when they were young. It doesn't say how she died."

He's still reading. "You think Margaret is our ghost?...If it is a ghost."

She shrugs. "I can't find any other unnatural deaths related to the Inn or the property until the recent string we're here investigating." He nods in agreement and takes another swallow, emptying his glass. She takes it from him, refills both glasses and returns.

He puts the page down and takes the glass from her. She sits back down on the bed and faces him, her leg bent between them. "So we need to figure out if it's hoodoo or Margaret." He states.

Now she nods. "Susan said Rose had a stroke but, that doesn't mean she's incapacitated. If she's still functioning she could be responsible for all of this." She sips her drink thinking through all the facts of the case. The whiskey is loosening her muscles, allowing her to relax. She starts to feel the fatigue seeping into her bones from not sleeping well the night before and the long drive to Connecticut. She stands up to stretch her neck turning her back to him. She walks to the desk and sets her drink down. "We need to talk to Rose to know for sure. And we should find Margaret's grave. I think I saw the family burial plot while I was walking the property this morning."

"Ok" he stands up and takes the final gulp of his drink and sets the glass next to hers. "In the morning, Sam and I will go talk to Rose and you check out the grave. We can have this thing wrapped up by dinner time." He jokes.

Her brows knit together as she thinks about "dinner time" tomorrow. Susan and her daughter could be dead by then if they don't get this right. The image of the girl in the pool haunts her and makes her feel ten times more exhausted than a moment ago.

He notices the change in her and steps closer. "Hey, are you ok?" he asks. She's looking at him, but doesn't really see him. She sees a little girl drowning. "Grace?" he says softly, stepping closer, his proximity pulling her from her thoughts. Now she sees him. She's looking into his beautiful eyes. That's the only word to describe them, to describe him, really. He'd never be considered effeminate, but his features are delicate, soft. With long eyelashes framing greenish hazel eyes, striking bone structure and full smooth lips, he is a beautiful man.

It would be so easy to lose herself in him, to kiss him and let him hold her, to make love to him and forget everything bad and painful in her life for a few hours. His face is full of concern for her. It touches her to see that he seems to actually care if she's alright. He reaches his hand out tentatively to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She can't hide the shiver his touch elicits and she sees his pupils dilate in response.

'And afterwards?' she asks herself. 'When he's gone and I'm alone again with someone new to miss? How will that feel?' She forces a wide smile. "I'm just tired." It's not a lie, just still not the whole truth. "I need some sleep before we tackle this." She turns away from him a second time and walks to the door, opening it, inviting him to leave.

He hesitates then nods slightly once and reaches for his jacket on his way to the door. "We're in 237." He says at the threshold. "Why don't you come check in with us before you hit the graveyard in the morning so you can meet Sam and we can coordinate our efforts?"

She nods. "Ok, goodnight Dean." And she closes the door.

She knocks on the door of 237 and waits. Dean's brother answers the door and looks down at her in with a polite but confused expression. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, you must be Sam." She offers her hand in greeting. "I'm Grace. Dean should be expecting me." Sam takes her hand cautiously and smiles, but there's still confusion on his face. He gestures for her to enter. She snickers at the two single beds in the room and remembers the misunderstanding from the day before. Dean is sitting on one of the beds tying his boot. "Grace." he nods at her.

"Morning Dean." She walks into the room and plops down on the bed opposite his, Sam's bed. Sam looks back and forth from Dean to Grace and then his eyes land on Dean with an expectant look.

Dean looks up at his brother. "Dude, I told you there was another hunter on this case and they'd be coming by this morning to compare notes." He says defensively. Sam turns to stare at Grace with his mouth open a little.

"Yeah," Sam starts. "But you didn't say they were…that she was…" Sam motions towards Grace awkwardly searching for the right words to express his thought. "I was just expecting…"

"A dude." Grace finishes for him and his cheeks turn pink, which is kind of adorable. She glances at Dean's expression of delight at his brother's discomfort and wonders if he intentionally set Sam up. "No worries. I get that all the time. So, are we all clear on what we're doing? I'm going to for a nature walk to see if I can find Margaret's grave and you boys are going to have a chat with Grandma Rose, right?"

"Yeah, we just have to get Rose alone." Dean mutters as he stands up to put on his coat.

"If Susan's in there with her, I can create a diversion on my way out, but I can't guarantee how long I can keep her away." Grace offers. The boys both nod and they all head out the door. Soon Grace is standing at the Private door to the family's quarters knocking while Sam and Dean hide around the corner. Susan answers the door.

"Grace. Is everything ok? What can I do for you?" she asks.

"Everything's fine. I was just going to head into town and was wondering if you could tell me which spots are the best for antiques." She smiles sweetly thinking of the conversation the boys had with Susan yesterday.

Susan moves out into the hallway closing the door behind her. "I actually have a guide downstairs. It has a map and the addresses of all the best shops." The two women head down the stairs and Grace looks back to see Dean peeking around the corner. She winks at him and then is gone down the stairs. Grace chats with Susan for a few minutes asking her questions about the map and about any place she recommends for lunch. She draws out the conversation as long as she can before it becomes awkward and then says good bye. She gets into her Jeep and drives down the driveway to where she saw the small grave yard. She hops out of the car and starts to explore the tombstones. It's definitely a family plot. A lot of stones share the same last name and the years go back to the late 1800's, but no Margaret.

The mausoleum at the back of the little yard is locked. Grace works her picks on the rusted old lock, but its fused shut. She walks around to the back and sees a small window about 6 feet off the ground. She picks up a rock and smashes the stained glass then strips off her jacket and lays it on the opening above her head covering the broken glass. Reaching up and gripping the edge of the window she walks her feet up the stone wall until she can get one ankle hooked into the window. Then she uses her leg to lift herself the rest of the way and slithers through the opening. The floor of the mausoleum is raised on the inside and she only needs to step down to enter. She pulls a flashlight out of her pocket and shines the light over the plaques on the walls. She lets out an annoyed sigh when she finds Margaret's plaque. "Cremated," she mumbles. If it is a ghost, they aren't going to be able to salt and burn the remains. She better let the boys know.

She just reaches her Jeep as an old Impala in excellent condition approaches from the direction of the Inn. Dean is driving. She walks up to his window as he stops and she bends down to peer in at he and Sam. "Nice car." She smiles and nods in appreciation. Dean beams. Clearly this car is important to him. "But where are you guys going?" She frowns slightly.

Sam sighs and gets out of the car. She backs away as Dean turns off the engine and opens his door too. "Susan caught us with Rose and threatened to call the police." Sam explains. Grace cringes at the bad luck of the situation. "But she's not practicing hoodoo in her condition anyway." Sam continues, "She was totally incapacitated by the stroke."

Dean grunts "Well, you didn't let me poke her to make sure." He gives his brother the side eye but Grace ignores the exchange.

"Well more bad news here." Grace interjects. "Margaret was cremated. So if we're up against her ghost, we're gonna have to find another way to take her down." Both brothers groan.

"She could be attached to anything in that house. All those dolls and toys, the furniture, hairbrush, old clothes. It'll be impossible to find the object she's anchored to." Sam complains.

"We could burn the whole place down." Dean offers. "They're gonna tear it down anyway."

Sam scoffs. "We can't burn the whole thing down, Dean." He gives his brother an incredulous look.

Grace is quiet for a moment. "We might have to, Sam." She says seriously looking between them both.

"I was joking, Grace." Dean says startled by her statement.

"I know. But think about it. If she's attached to something in the house and the demolition crew misses it, she's still gonna be in there haunting whatever they put up in it's place. There's no way to be sure she's gone unless we destroy everything." The thought fills Grace with a new exhaustion. She needs to take a break after this job, if the vision will let her.

Sam can see the fatigue set in on her. "Look, we don't have to decide this right now. We have a little time to think about it and try to work something out."

She nods, hoping he's right. "Ok, I'm going back in to look around. Maybe I can find something we missed or at least figure out how Margaret died."

"Right." Dean agrees. "Call us if you find anything." He says writing his number on a piece of paper. "And don't burn the place down without talking to us first." He hands her the paper and holds onto her hand until she looks him in the eyes.

She smiles at him and nods. "I promise."

Both men climb back into the Impala and drive away.

Grace is getting frustrated. She's spoken to Susan again, but she was too agitated about finding Sam and Dean with her mother to focus on Grace's questions. Susan finally insisted she had to get back to packing and went upstairs. Grace did some more poking around, looking at photos and breaking into locked rooms. She searched Susan's office while she was upstairs and found nothing. She was up in her room now organizing her research. It was looking more and more like she was going to have to burn the old Inn to the ground. It was getting late in the afternoon. Soon Susan would be in mortal danger and so would Tyler and there was a better chance to save them both if she had help. She didn't want to give up her secret, but she would not let these people die. She dialed Dean's cell.

"Grace, what's up, you find something?" Dean deep voice rumbled through the phone. Grace paused a moment. She'd be vague as long as he'd let her.

"No, Dean, but I need you guys to come back. I need your help."

"What's wrong? Are you in trouble, did something happen?' The concern in his voice was comforting. It had been a long time since anyone had worried about her.

"I can't explain now, but I need you to get here as fast as you can. Park in the back and I'll come out to meet you."

"Grace wh-"

"Dean, please." He heard the edge of desperation in her voice. It must have been enough motivation. "Please just come."

"We're on our way," was all he said before hanging up.

She pulled on her coat and put her gun and knife in her pockets. She shoved all her notes into her backpack and took one last look around the room. If things went sideways she would have to make a quick get-away.

She dumped her things in her Jeep and waited around back for the Impala. The light was getting lower in the sky and she was getting anxious. She needed to have Susan in her sights so she could keep her safe. It would happen just around the corner from where she stood. Grace could see the swing set from the back of the Inn, but couldn't see the exact spot where Susan was supposed to die. She was starting to fidget when the Impala pulled up. Sam and Dean jumped out of the car and raced to her side. Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Are you hurt? What's going on?" His eyes were just on the edge of frantic when she looked into them. He cared. He cared just as much as she did about other people, about protecting them, keeping them safe. The memory of what it was like to have someone who cared about her, someone who wanted to protect her, was so powerful that also remembering he was gone was like losing him again right in that moment.

She touched Dean's face briefly as a look of sorrow washed over her own face. "I'm ok." She said, her voice coming out a whisper. He just kept staring into her eyes. She took her hand away and stepped back from him. "I didn't find anything new, but Susan and Tyler are in danger and I need you to help me keep them safe."

"How do you know they're in danger?" Sam asked as he stepped closer to her.

She looked at him with a guarded expression. "I just know, and I know something is going to happen soon. I know you barely know me," she glanced from Sam to Dean, "But I need you to trust me." Her eyes were begging them for help. The men both looked skeptical for a moment. Before anyone could say anything else Grace caught the movement of the swing out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to look at the swing set. The vision flashed through her mind; the swings swinging, the carousel spinning and Susan flying through the air. It was starting.

"Susan." She breathed the name and took off running. It took a moment for the brothers switch gears, but then they were chasing Grace. She could hear the car engine start in the front of the Inn. She heard Sam and Dean's feet kicking up the gravel behind them as they ran after her. She rounded the corner and saw the car jump forward towards Susan. Susan tried to run but she wasn't going to be fast enough, Grace already knew. The car was gaining on Susan. Both men rounded the corner and saw the scene unfolding before them. Grace dug deeper into the ground and launched herself into the air. The car was almost on Susan when Graces body slammed into her, throwing her out of the way. The two women rolled across the gravel, Grace protecting Susan's head by tucking it under her own arm. When they came to a stop Sam and Dean were on them, picking them up off the ground. Susan was crying and Sam wrapped an arm around her protectively and ushered her towards the Inn. Dean kept his hands on Grace's shoulders and steered her into the Inn behind Sam.

They were in the bar and Susan was asking for whiskey. She was crying and bewildered. Hunters saw a lot of that. She wanted to know what was happening and Dean, comically to Grace's mind, was trying to explain. She heard him say hoodoo and spirit and couldn't suppress a giggle. Why was she laughing? This wasn't funny. Sam took over with Susan asking questions and trying to figure out the next move. Dean was leaning down in front of Grace. His eyes went a little wide.

"You're bleeding." He said grabbing a towel off the bar and began looking for the source of the blood.

"Well that's nothing new." Grace snarked looking up at him. She blinked a few times trying to pull him back into focus. Something wasn't right.

He pulled back the hair on the right side of her face and examined her head. Then he pressed the towel into her hair. She gritted her teeth as his toweled hand made contact with her skin and a throbbing pain rolled through her head. She saw stars and her hands shot out to balance herself, grabbing onto Dean's shirt.

"Easy," he said sitting her down in a chair. "You've got a pretty good gash there."

"I'll be fine." She said straightening herself out. She knew it was a concussion. She'd had them before and there was nothing that could be done, she just had to ride it out.

Susan is saying that she only has one daughter. Sam is asking where Tyler is and suddenly they are all running up the stairs, Dean helping Grace along. Grace is having trouble mentally keeping up with what's happening, the concussion making her head fuzzy. They are in Susan's private apartment, Susan is yelling for Tyler and Sam and Dean are searching the room for something. Grace's brain is struggling with something that is nagging at the back of her mind. Something she needs to do, something important. Susan comes back into the room. "She's not here." She says with panic in her voice.

Grace closes her eyes to try to clear her head. The vision floods through her mind again; the little girl on the edge of the rail, the little girl in the pool, the little girl drowning. Her eyes snap open and she gasps. The other three whip around to look at her. Her mind is suddenly very clear with purpose. "Tyler- the pool!" She shouts as she races out of the room. Dean is on her heels, followed by Sam and then Susan. She manages to keep the lead all the way to the pool. Dean's legs are longer, but she's a runner and she's fast. She collides with the French doors that lead to the pool. She can see the little girl on the other side of the glass, on the wrong side of the railing. She shakes the door handle and pounds on the door. Susan is yelling Tyler's name. Grace steps back so Sam and Dean can assault the doors. They slam their bodies against the glass and kick the door but it doesn't budge.

"Is there another way in?" Dean asks Susan.

"The back door." She answers.

"You two stay here and keep trying to get in this way!" Dean shouts as he and Susan take off running around the side of the building.

When Grace looks back through the window the little girl is gone. She's in the pool and she's starting to drown. Grace can't see it, but she knows it's happening. Sam pulls the flowers out of the urn by the door and starts using the urn as a battering ram. He manages to crack the glass, but the door still won't open. "Get back Sam!" Grace shouts and pulls out her gun. Sam steps aside as Grace aims the weapon with her right hand steadying it with her left. She squeezes the trigger and puts five rounds through the door. The glass and wood are shattered and splintered. Sam slams his body into the door again and this time it gives. He and Grace both rush into the pool house. Sam looks down to see Tyler in the pool and doesn't hesitate to leap over the railing plunging into the pool below. Grace looks over the railing and the whole world tilts. She grasps the railing to keep from falling to the floor or going over and into the pool. She's dizzy and disoriented and knows that if she goes into the pool, Sam will have to save her too. She grips the railing and stumbles towards the stairs that lead to the lower deck. She staggers down the stairs holding more of her weight with her arms on the railing than her legs. When she gets to the bottom she can see Sam break the surface of the water with Tyler in his arms.

Grace lurches forward to get to the edge of the pool where Sam is bringing the little girl. She falls onto her hands and knees and crawls to the edge of the pool reaching out to take the girl's limp body from Sam. Dean and Susan are running to Tyler's side and they all stare at the small unmoving body for a beat. Grace leans down close to girl's lips and doesn't feel air passing through them. She checks for a pulse and finds nothing. For the second time in two days she starts CPR. She breathes into the child's mouth three times and performs 10 compressions, then two more breaths. On the third she feels resistance as air and water spout from Tyler's lungs and mouth. She tips the girl on her side to get all the water out and Susan scoops the girl's head into her arms. Grace falls back, dizzy and struggling to stay conscious, expecting to hit the tile floor. Instead Dean is there to catch her and her back lands on his waiting chest. His arms encircle her to keep her from slipping off to the side. Her head aches and her vision is blurry but Susan and Tyler are safe and Dean Winchester is holding her in his arms.

"We need to get everyone out." Sam says pulling himself out of the pool. He ushers Susan and Tyler back to the main Inn building and Dean lifts Grace to her feet. Her wraps his right arm around her waist and pulls her left arm around his neck. He supports her weight as they walk back into the Inn and up the stairs to the apartment. They need to get Rose and get out before Margaret strikes again. Dean lowers Grace into a chair so she can rest a minute. Her vision begins to steady and the dizziness dissipates. Sam is wondering aloud if the ghost just gave up and went away when they all hear a scream from upstairs. Sam takes off and Dean shoots a look to Grace. She waves her hand at him. "Go." She says.

Rose is dead. Grace doesn't feel good about that, but Susan and Tyler are alive and that's why she was here. The coroner takes Rose and the paramedics patch up Grace's head. All that's left is for Susan and Tyler to say goodbye to the Inn forever.

Susan tells them that the coroner said Rose had another stroke; that's what killed her. "Do you think Margaret has something to do with it?" She asks.

"I don't know." Dean tells her.

"It's possible." Sam adds. "Susan, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You gave me everything." She smiles at him. "All of you," she looks to Dean and Grace as well.

Tyler comes out of the Inn and Susan asks her if she's ready to go.

"You're sure Maggie's not around anywhere?" Dean asks Tyler.

She shakes her head. "No. I would see her." She answers. Tyler and Susan make their way to the waiting cab and Sam holds the door for them. She stops before she gets in and gives Sam a hug. Then the mother and daughter drive away. Sam, Dean and Grace watch as the cab drives off then Sam and Dean turn to Grace.

"I still don't understand how you knew they were in danger. And how did you know Tyler was at the pool?" Dean asks looking into her eyes for answers she isn't ready to give.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Finely honed hunter instincts." She states smirking at them and starting to walk towards her Jeep. They reach it and she starts to open the door.

"No, really." Sam says, now he's searching her eyes for answers. She just sighs.

"Guys, it's a long story, but I don't have time to tell it right now. I've got to get going. Maybe next time we work a job together I can tell you all about it." Her smile is tired but resolute. They know they aren't going to get the answer they want today.

"Are you sure you should be driving?" Dean asks with genuine concern. "You played it off pretty well with the paramedics, but I know a concussion when I see one."

"I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've driven with a concussion. If I get dizzy I'll pull over."

Sam moves closer and wraps his longs arms around her back. "Take care of yourself, " he tells her as he pulls away and she smiles up at his sweet handsome face.

Dean takes Sam's place but he pauses, looking into her eyes while holding her by the shoulders gently. "Next time." He says. "I'm gonna hold you to that." His eyes wander over her face. It's not like the first time he looked at her, as if she were a piece of meat. This time it's more like he was trying to memorize the details so he won't forget her. Then he pulls her into his chest and holds her in his arms and squeezes just enough that she feels warm and safe. She inhales his scent deeply making a memory of her own.

"I look forward to it." She murmurs into his chest just loud enough for him to hear. And then they are standing apart again and she is climbing into her Jeep. She gives them a final wave and pulls away watching them recede in her rear view mirror as they watch her disappear down the driveway. She is tired and sore and needs to take a very long hot shower followed by a very long uninterrupted sleep. She doubts she will ever cross paths with the Winchesters again, but she knows she will have many sweet dreams about Dean.

End


End file.
